


Forgetting, Forgotten

by peripety



Category: Snow White and the Huntsman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peripety/pseuds/peripety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow White killed Ravenna...or did she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgetting, Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Ravenna was evil, no ifs, ands, or buts....but I can't help thinking she was twisted into what she became. So I wrote this to give her a tiny speck of redemption - or at least peace.

She was freedom, soaring above the blooming earth, unaware that it was her once-hated rival who had given the land its glorious rebirth. What did that matter when air currents lifted her black wings, letting her fly high above the troubles and concerns of men?

She was solitude, not seeking the others of her kind, even when their raucous voices came to her on the wind that drew her ever aloft. What did she need others for, when it was solitude which stilled the voices of the past?

She was serenity, no longer driven by fear, by avarice, by compulsion. At last the dark misery of her childhood was a half-forgotten dream, without the power it had once had to twist a little girl’s psyche into something evil.

Had anyone realized a part of her had escaped? Her raven cloak had burst into a mass of black-winged birds, one catapulting up and out of the castle to be caught by the strong wind of change, carrying within a tiny speck of her consciousness, her soul. Could that one be missed? She thought not, for that half-sleeping princess had been aware of little that went on beyond the nose residing on her pretty face, certainly not of the compulsive need for survival possessed by the mad, dark creature once called Ravenna..

She flew high and far in the shape of the creature she had been named for, forgetting and forgotten as below her the cycle of life resumed: birth after death as it had always been in the elder stories.

When suspicious archers no longer notched their bows at the sight of any black-winged creature she sometimes returned to the castle to sit upon the battlements and observe the goings-on with detached curiosity. There were children playing in the garden while about the castle flowers tended by the new queen bloomed riotously along gray stone walls.

But, as with other human emotions, she was beyond feeling either envy or contempt at the sight of Snow White tending to all that had once been hers. Such things no longer concerned her. She was wild and free, cleansed of what her human self had both endured and wrought. As time passed it became harder and harder to remember the human heart that had once beat within her breast. She stopped even trying to do so.

And that, at last, brought her peace. At long last, peace.


End file.
